A Marvelous Game
by bballgirl32
Summary: The country is in unrest, Snow isn't happy, and Marvel is doing his best to stay sane while everything around him falls apart. With rebellion in the air and the president nearing his breaking point, Marvel has to destroy the rebel cause- a cause that he has come to believe in- or face consequences that grow more horrifying by the day. Sequel to Genius and Insanity
1. Prologue

**A/N- Welcome to my newest story. To everyone who's here and hasn't read Genius and Insanity, please go back and read my other story first. Otherwise, this will make no sense at all. To everyone else, in case it isn't obvious, I have the story up!**

**Please read and enjoy!**

**...**

**Snow POV (3rd Person)**

Coriolanus Snow stared at the cameras that were swarming around District One's train station. A ridiculous amount of people crowded around the platform, and Snow could feel the tension even from the Capitol. He'd exported hundreds of extra peacekeepers to the area as an added precaution. The time of pretending that nothing was wrong had passed. Now, within a matter of days, it was much more crucial to keep the districts under control than to keep up a facade of total power.

The thought made Snow's hands clench into fists. None of this ever should have happened. The Everdeen girl had worried him from the second she volunteered for her sister, and even the obvious pity that the small girl from District Eleven evoked had been vaguely concerning, but the smiling idiot from District One hadn't garnered a moment of consideration. Actually, Snow had gone so far as to be thankful to the idiot for forcing himself into the sickening love triangle. He'd been foolish enough to think that the boy's presence would cause it to lose its legitimacy.

Then the idiot had proceeded to unknowingly tear Panem apart within a matter of weeks. Peacekeepers had been flooding into Eleven from the moment he allied with Rue, District Eight was on the brink of collapse, and some fool had attempted to set fire to the training academy in District One.

It was ridiculous, and the moron had no idea what he was doing. Not until the very end, when his actions became more censored and his words more careful. Snow had almost let himself hope that things would turn out alright. Then the ox from District Eleven had almost called the nation to explode.

Leaving both remaining tributes alive had been a necessity. He needed Marvel to reverse the damage that had been done, and Katniss would have died a martyr had he allowed her to be killed. And Marvel had been doing his job quite well… his supposed romance with Katniss had dissolved, his behavior was discouraging certain rebel groups from acting out quite so obviously, and his district was no longer in danger of disowning him- something that would have placed Snow in the unwanted predicament of having a victor with nowhere to go.

However, the footage that he was getting of District One reminded Snow that the threat was by no means extinguished. Mockingjay necklaces and pins glittered in the crowd. A worrying number of rebels had been arrested earlier for holding up signs that protested the Games. The district was not as content as it should have been after gaining a victor.

The train rolled to a stop, and Snow leaned back in his cheer and steepled his fingers. He trusted Marvel to act his part; the boy was a talented bullshit artist, and that was what the president was counting on to reunite his nation.

As expected, when Marvel exited the train, he was wearing another gaudy suit. He waved and smiled as he was supposed to. He cheered with the crowds.

Snow frowned. He'd refused to allow Marvel's arrival to be filmed live- too many things could have gone wrong- but so far everything was going quite smoothly in the most important undecided district. Perhaps airing it would have been a better idea-

Then Snow heard it. Four familiar notes. One person whistled the tune. Then someone else. There were no mockingjays in District One, but there were people dispersed throughout the crowd who were more than willing to take up the role. Within a matter of seconds, the sound was spread throughout what much of the main city. Snow's hands clenched into fists and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

No. Panem was not _that _fragile. This wasn't happening.

Marvel quickly started laughing at the crowd, callously asking, "Is that my new theme song or something?" Several wealthier families laughed, and the song died down with no shots being fired.

Snow hardly cared how quickly the problem had been resolved. It didn't matter.

What mattered was that the bird song had been disturbing. That there were still so many people who would actively do something rebellious in one of the districts he expected to be most loyal- in one of the wealthiest, most powerful districts- troubled him exceedingly. Marvel was doing well, but there were too many things to be undone and too many fools who were too smart for their own good, who at least suspected that Marvel had been threatened into taking back his old persona.

Hmm… Snow looked at the papers in front of him; suggestions from his most trusted advisors on how to take care of the problem. He already had one appealing idea; the same idea that had destroyed Finnick Odair's reputation when he was gaining too much power among the districts. However, Marvel and Finnick were very different characters, and Snow worried over the consequences of placing the boy in a role that he so obviously did not fit.

Of course, there were other option. The Gamemakers, for one, were quite set on the idea of rigging the Quarter Quell to allow for a competition amongst victors- one that would conveniently kill off Katniss Everdeen and perhaps Marvel Metzger- but Snow would not consider that idea as anything other than a last resort. He did not want to give those two anymore screen time- not when Marvel was so clearly aware of how to use every second of it to his advantage.

No… For the time being, Snow would have to concern himself with destroying the reputation that Marvel had built; pushing him, but not breaking… at least not until his usefulness was up.

On the District Twelve camera, Snow could easily see the small crowd that had bothered to show up. Katniss's mother and sister. Her interesting male friend with the big mouth that he thought Snow wasn't aware of. Gale… He could provide another interesting chess piece… too old to be worked into the Games, but perhaps another way to play with Marvel.

Ah… so many choices. Snow frowned to himself. He had plenty of time to make a move, but he was beginning to grow concerned that Metzger had started something that could not be stopped, an inferno that refused to be put out.

He shook his head. But of course not. He was allowing Katniss's reunion to be filmed- the one that consisted of a district that was hoping for two victors, and instead wound up with one- with a victor who had been manipulated and lied to and was generally not victorious enough to bolster the district's hopes. Showing the state of District Twelve would greatly reduce rebel confidence, and as soon as he could figure out what, exactly, to do with the person who started all this... well, the rebellion would be extinguished firmly and efficiently.

On another screen, in District Five, a power plant worker snuck a can of kerosene into the plant, stuck it near a reactor, and lit a fire next to the can.

Snow turned towards the screen just as the plant went up in flames.

From somewhere, he could hear a voice scream, "DON'T FORGET!"

Snow cursed and slammed a first on the control panel as another one of his fears was rubbed into his face.

It was not Metzger who was the problem. It was Thresh. And what the brainless oaf had done could not be erased.

The president grabbed a remote and shut both screens off. He refused to acknowledge that manipulating Metzger would not fix the problem. It would. It _had _to.

Or his fragile, fragile nation would crumble to pieces.

**A/N-**

**Alright, that's really short, but it's a prologue. Honestly, I was going to do a full chapter, but I've been drowning in homework all week, so this is all I got done. I do have it half written, though, and it should be up within a couple days.**

**Anyhow, thanks for continuing on to the sequel if y'all are here. I know this was super short (and honestly, I think I might have told some people it was gonna be in Katniss's POV, but I changed my mind) but it also sets up the entire story. After this, everything is going back to Marvel's POV just like in Genius and Insanity. Or at least, I think. I guess, if you want to hear from Katniss, tell me and, if I get enough votes, I'll think about it, but as of now it's all from Marvel's eyes. **

**That's all I think. Oh, and thanks for all the title ideas. I actually wound up getting a PM from Wishing on Fireflies suggesting the title I wound up picking, so a shout out to her for coming up with what I thought was a cool idea, and... I guess that's everything. Bye. **

**~bballgirl32~**


	2. The Next Great Thing in Fashion

I whistle cheerfully to myself as I amble towards the richest part of District One. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, I'm in a shit mood and I have to pretend to be happy, just like I have for the last fourteen days, nineteen hours, twenty six minutes, and thirteen seconds.

People are staring at me like I've lost my mind, but they've been doing that ever since I got back. After the initial kamikaze rebels got their rendition of 'Tune de la Rue' out of the way, it seems like all of the Marvel fans have curled up and died, leaving a lot of people who look at me like I'm crazy, insult me to my face, or simply decide to act like I died in the arena and no longer exist.

Unfortunately, my family falls under all three categories.

Since Snow isn't an idiot, he didn't film the reunion with my family live. Instead, he decided to make things as awkward as possible and have the whole shindig choreographed and scripted out. So rather than having a huge, nationally televised showdown with my mother like I'd kind of been hoping for, I got to shake my father's hand, _hug _my mother, and pat Breeze on the head, all while smiling like a creeper and talking about district pride and money and how much _fun _I had in the Capitol. Afterwards, my father stared at me for a long heartbeat and said, "Be careful, Marvel." Then he walked off. Breeze backed away after him, giving me an 'I'm worried you're going to turn evil and kill me at any second so I refuse to look away from you' expression before finally turning around and jogging to catch up to my father.

As soon as the witnesses were gone, my mother completely lost it. In short, she cussed me out with an impressive thoroughness, told me an entertaining story that involved peacekeepers storming our house to look for rebellious materials and embarrassing the shit out of her in front of the neighbors, _and_ called me a plethora of colorful names that would've made Haymitch Abernathy blush. Then she said that she couldn't stand to look at me anymore, turned on a pointed heel, and stomped off.

That's when the whole 'acting like I don't exist' thing came into play. I haven't seen any of my family since I've gotten back, and my mansion back in Victor's Village is painfully deserted. I don't even have any housekeepers to talk to because I now have so much time on my hands that not only have I taught myself how to do laundry, clean, and cook semi-edible food, but I've also come to _enjoy _it.

Really, that painful loneliness is the reason that I'm currently going where I'm going. When Tilly called a little over a week ago to tell me that I had to think up a talent with which to entertain the masses, the first criteria that me and my little lonely self thought of was that whatever I chose had to involve socializing; that way I'd have an excuse to interact with people without resorting to begging or bribery. Of course, as soon as I reached said conclusion, I also realized that I knew very few people who'd agree to willingly socialize with me, talent or no talent.

With that wonderfully depressing insight came the task of thinking up acquaintances who would be open to the idea of spending time with moi.

Gloss was the first person who came to mind. At least until I found out that his post-Games talent had been bodybuilding, which, considering the fact that I ditched a lot of my strength-training classes back at the Academy because there were fourteen-year-olds who could bench more than I could, is about the last thing I wanted to do in my free time. Then I considered Cashmere, but other than her talent- which is yoga- all that she does is go on trips to the Capitol to do 'business' for Snow, and if her business is what I think it is, well… I'd rather not be a part of it.

That narrowed it down to two options: Tilly, who had no obvious talents of which to speak, and Ventidius, who I wouldn't willingly spend time with to save my life.

My thinking had just reached the point where I was starting to contemplate joining an old lady knitting group that was too blind to recognize me when, thank god, I had a genius epiphany. I _did _know someone else who (probably) liked me, and he even had an obvious talent... Cinna.

So maybe I'd never even met the guy, but I did know that he more likely than not was a rebel (aka, not a total Capitol goon), and, well… a stylist who spent a lot of time with Katniss. It was stupidly desperate of me, but I actually think that's the thing that decided me completely; I wanted an excuse to talk with someone who knew Katniss.

I ended up calling Tilly back and telling her that fashion was going to be my talent. I, however, didn't want Snow wondering why I was suddenly so interested in getting buddy-buddy with Cinna specifically, so instead of calling him for advice right away, I've been spending the last few days either on the phone with Venny or hanging out at a fashion boutique that Cashmere led me to. You know, so I can get everyone acclimated to the idea that I'm going to be the next greatest thing in fashion design _before_ I start chatting it up with Cinna.

The world of fashion hasn't been as bad as I expected, either. I've already stopped by _Capital Style- _yes, that is a terrible pun on 'Capitol'- several times in the last few days, and while I'm definitely not the designer-guy type, I do enjoy trailing the owner and using a fake-Capitol accent to give out bullshit fashion advice to District One's elite. Funnily enough, my fake-accent had enough people believing that spending two weeks in the Capitol made me an expert on what they're wearing that, the last time I was in, Apollo gave me a uniform, a name tag, and the right to offer random people my expert counsel whenever I please.

I cross the street and skip up to the enormous boutique, waving at all of the creepy, terrifying mannequins in the window to give all the staring passerby a legitimate reason to judge me. Smiling like I'm not totally aware that my district thinks I've lost my marbles, I toss open the door and amble into the shop. The whole place is thickly carpeted and filled with paintings of scary silhouette people, along with racks of strange-looking coats and shirts, cubic shelves of ugly shoes, and the most ridiculous hats a person will ever see, all adorning a plethora of head-shaped hat-racks. A flat-screen television is playing in the corner, blaring out the latest news in the Capitol. I ignore it and head up to one of the clothing racks, where Apollo is reorganizing a row of vests.

"Hi, Marvel," says Apollo cheerfully. He almost kicked me out when I first came into the shop, saying he didn't want 'my type' ruining his business, but I've clearly grown on the guy. "I'm so glad to see you. I've been looking into the clothing you wore in the Capitol- it was all marvelous, by the way- and I fell in love with the color palette that your genius stylist used. I was wondering if you couldn't help me incorporate those same colors into styles that are affordable here in District One."

I stare at him, sure that he just brutally abused a 'Marvel' pun and called Ventidius a genius in the same sentence

"You're kidding, right?" I ask slowly. When his expression tells me that he's completely serious, I laugh and quickly say, "I mean, yes, of course. Can I see your designs?"

Apollo isn't a Capitol idiot. He gets that I am being a smartass, but he also understands that I carry a knife at all times and have been known to wave it around like I'm going to use it when he's being unreasonable. Intelligently, Apollo doesn't so much as open his mouth before he stomps off to his office in back, I'm assuming to retrieve his big portfolio of design sketches.

I know that it'll probably take him a while to find it- I've already figured out that the guy misplaces everything he touches- so I take a seat on one of his fancy, extremely uncomfortable chairs, pick up a magazine, and start flipping through it while trying to ignore the Capitol newscast that's playing.

I'm just reading up on how to dress vintage without looking ancient when one of the announcers on the TV says Katniss's name. My ears automatically perk up, and I tune into the program just enough to vaguely hear the end of her sentence. "... all interested in hearing more on the rumors surrounding Miss Everdeen's risque rendezvous with Atlas Baxwoll- son of one of President Snow's most trusted advisers- that began circulating yesterday..."

I freeze in place, certain that I'd completely misunderstood. Then another announcer goes on and says, "The rumors have officially been confirmed. Everdeen, who is currently in the Capitol for unknown business, checked into a hotel with Baxwoll late last evening-"

My magazine flutters to the floor before the guy can finish. I get to my feet and dazedly move closer to the television. A few of the patrons start pointing and whispering, but I hardly care because, now that I'm close enough, I can very clearly see that I _hadn't _misheard. There are two grotesquely altered Capitol idiots gesturing to a picture that's been brought up behind them… a picture of Katniss holding hands with a tall, handsome Capitolite at the front desk of a fancy hotel. I can't quite make out the expression on Katniss's face, but I can see that she doesn't want to be there by the tense set of her thin shoulders. Well, and because she's Katniss and Snow is a bastard and I know exactly what's going on

I stare at the man that's with Katniss and feel a sickening mixture of hatred and jealousy and pure rage bubble up in my chest, and suddenly I don't care how disgusted I was with myself at killing those people in the arena. I want to find this man and skin him alive and then torture him in every terrible way I have ever been taught.

Trying not to make a big deal out of something that _can't _be happening, I remind myself that I've had terrible nightmares before and I'm probably asleep. I close my eyes and pinch myself and shake my head over and over again, sure that it's going to go away when I wake up.

Slowly, terrified, I open my eyes again and feel my stomach bottom out when the same headline is still flashing across the screen. My hands start shaking and I have to take a deep breath because I can feel myself slipping back into the arena. Not like at the end of the Games, but like at the beginning, when I wanted nothing more than to kill someone, when I was _dying _to spill blood.

Snow... that disgusting man who was holding Katniss's hand... I stare at that screen and find myself longing to tear both of them apart with my bare hands.

"Marvel, are you ready?" I spin around to see Apollo standing behind me, holding his big binder and looking at me cautiously. I clench my hands into fists and try to force my breathing to slow down, reminding myself over and over and over again that making a scene will piss Snow off, that that'll just make things worse, and that it isn't Apollo's fault in the least.

My voice is painfully strained despite my best efforts.

"I… I actually think that I should talk to some of my friends in the Capitol first. To… you know… to…" I shake my head. I can't even lie; that's how screwed up my state of mind is. I've been spending the last two weeks with Katniss dancing around in the back of my head, worrying about her and praying that she's okay, and now, the first I see of her since I left her in the Capitol, I figure out that she's either developed a taste for rich Capitol guys, or, more likely, Snow is _selling _her.

Apollo glances at the television screen, then looks at me and scrunches his face up like he's trying to solve an interesting puzzle. After a moment, his eyes light up with surprise and he nods and supplies, "To ask them about the colors for my designs?"

I don't know if he's serious- something tells me he isn't, that he knows there's something going on and is throwing me a bone- but I snap my fingers and nod emphatically. "Yes," I say, practically jumping up and down with the need to do something. "I'm going to go call a Capitol friend and ask about color combinations. Can I-"

"Borrow my office?" asks Apollo. He gives me a go-ahead gesture, and I quickly move back through the boutique and towards the short hallway that leads to his private office. My head is spinning, struggling to come up with something that I can do to stop this, but my brain is in such a terrible muddle that it's useless. I'm too worried about Katniss, too angry and blindsided and pissed off to come up with any coherent thoughts at all.

When I finally do get into his office, I'm stumped as to what I'm supposed to do. I just saw Katniss Everdeen, _my _Katniss Everdeen, on the news with some… with some disgusting Capitol freak, and… and it's against her will. She… good god, I don't even want to think about what she had to do with him, and there's nothing I can do to change it because I sure as hell can't go back in time…

I plop down in Apollo's fancy desk chair and bury my face in my hands. Dammit! I try to protect her from one thing, and then Snow goes and destroys her another way. I can't believe that he'd actually sink so low as to do something like that… and to _her_. I'd understand if he wanted to punish me, if he wanted to sell me and screw with me, but what purpose does messing up Katniss have? She didn't do anything, not really. It was all Rue and me and mostly Thresh, and I'm the only one alive to punish…

Realization hits me hard, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

No. No way. Snow's hurting me enough. There's no way he's doing this to get to me. He can't be. I've been playing my part so well, and besides, he still needs me… he knows better than to waste his cards like that, so there's another reason… lord, I pray that there's another reason, because I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself if I find out that I'm the reason that what I just saw on that screen is going on.

Still… just because it may not be entirely my fault doesn't mean that I should let it keep happening… as if I have a choice. Snow isn't going to stop this; he's going to do with Katniss what Glimmer was worried would happen to her… what I'm ninety percent sure he's doing with Cashmere on a consistent basis, and I can't do anything to stop it, to even make it easier on her.

Gosh, if I was just _there. _

Then I think of it. Calling Cinna. I could use him as an excuse… ask if he won't meet me a few times to discuss fashion stuff, or go to a fashion show or whatever in the hell they do in the Capitol. Hell, if I misread the guy and he doesn't trust me, I'll call up Venny and do all that crap with him. _Anything_ to get me to the Capitol.

With shaking hands, I reach out and pick up Apollo's phone. I have Cinna's number memorized; I got it from Tilly almost right away and I've been tempted to use it, to call him and ask him about Katniss, since I got it. Now I dial it numbly without having any idea what I'm going to say or what his reaction is going to be.

It's his personal phone, so I know that it's Cinna himself when a male voice answers, "Apollo? Can I help you?"

I guess I should've figured that Cinna would have Apollo's number. I know Apollo keeps in pretty consistent contact with Venny, so I'm not surprised he'd know other Capitol stylists, too.

"Um. This isn't Apollo," I say slowly. I wait a second to see if he recognizes the voice, and when he doesn't say anything, venture, "It's Marvel Metzger."

There's surprise clear in his tone when Cinna replies, "Marvel… to what do I owe the pleasure?"

_I think Katniss is being sold and I need an excuse to get to the Capitol so I can cut off all of Snow's limbs one by one for revenge. _

"Well, I'm not sure if you've heard or not, but when I had to pick a talent, I decided to go for fashion design, and… I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me out a little." I realize I'm speaking too fast and try to slow down. "I mean, I'd need to get permission to head up to the Capitol, but when I'm there, could we meet a couple times to go over designs or something?"

I finish and let out a long breath, sure that I sounded like a random idiot. Cinna, however, must understand at least a little of what's going on because I can practically feel him snap to attention on the other end.

"You would like to come to the Capitol?" he asks slowly. "Would there be any chance of me going to District One instead?"

I feel like this is a test, and cautiously I say, "Well, you could, but I wouldn't want to if I were you. It's freezing here, and the Snow has really been a bitch lately." I laugh, vaguely wondering if that was too obvious. Then I realize that I really don't care. Snow can't do much worse to me than he's already doing. Let him get a little pissy.

"Well, the Snow isn't too bad here at the moment, especially not in my part of the city," says Cinna. I'm not sure if he got my pun or not, but I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. "Would you like me to arrange something with the president for you?"

I relax. "That would be perfect." I can feel him getting ready to hang up, probably with promises to call me back or whatever, but I hurriedly speak before he can. "Do you know how long Katniss is in the Capitol for?"

There's a long pause, and for a second I wonder if he's even there anymore. Then Cinna says, "She's scheduled to leave next week."

A week. I feel my heart stop. That's seven more days. Seven more _nights_.

"Oh. Well… Maybe I'll call her up for coffee sometime or something."

Cinna and I both know that that isn't going to happen.

"Maybe," he says anyway. Then: "I'll call you after I talk with President Snow. I'm thinking that he'll find your interest in _fashion_ interesting and want you here as soon as possible. He may even have you make a few publicity appearances."

"Wonderful," I say. Then, because spending time with Peeta instilled within me a disgusting sense of politeness that I haven't figured out how to get rid of yet, I add, "Thanks again."

Then I hang up. Releasing a low breath, I lean back in the chair, stare at the ceiling, and, in an attempt to calm myself down, start coming up with ways that I can be wrong about what's going on.

Maybe Katniss really did meet a guy she truly likes a lot.

Maybe she's trying to get back at me.

Maybe Snow hired an actor who looks like Katniss to freak me out.

I shake my head. I don't know. They're all desperate ideas, but I'm a desperate person. So maybe I've been lonely and miserable, but lonely and miserable is a million times better than _this_. I thought that I've been doing well with the whole 'act like an asshole' thing, that Snow wasn't going to punish me any other way, but apparently I was wrong. I can't imagine what would have changed his mind, but… if he's still taking action, I must not be doing enough.

How am I not doing enough? What else _can _I do? Because I have to do something, anything…

Apollo hesitantly knocks on the door frame, and I quickly jump to my feet. Now isn't the time to be worrying about that anyway. Maybe I'll get an appointment with Snow later where I'll be able to at least try to figure out why he's doing what he's doing and what I could do to make it go away. Later. Not now. Now I have to keep acting and not seem upset and definitely not do anything to make things worse than they apparently already are.

"You're going to the Capitol?" he asks. I want to be pissed at him for listening into the conversation, but I can't be.

"If Snow approves it, yeah," I say. "And don't worry, I'll pay close attention to what everyone is wearing and bring all the information straight back to you."

"You do that," he says.

"I'll ask Cinna about those color things too, since I'll be talking with him and all that. Um… and is it okay if I go now? I know I just got here, but-"

"It's fine." Apollo reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. I try to get a good look at it, but he reaches for my hand and presses whatever it is into my palm instead. I want to glance at it, but I have a feeling that he's being so discreet for a reason. "And don't forget; if you see anything fabulous, pick it up and I'll pay you back."

"Of course."

"You should probably go."

I leave without looking back.

As soon as I'm back in Victor's Village, alone in my room- which I at least roughly checked for surveillance devices- I open my palm to see what Apollo had given me.

What I find makes me start in surprise.

Another mockingjay. This one isn't a necklace, but a pin, and infinitely simpler than Cinna's sparkling design. The white gold and single ruby eye of the mockingjay still make it relatively expensive, but in a much less obvious way.

It's not meant for everyone to see, to make a point, as Cinna's had been.

This one is made to send a message, and I can't help but smile just a small amount as the pieces click together and I realize just what that message is.

Katniss wore a mockingjay pin and Rue sang a mockingjay song, and thinking back on it now, the birds always seemed to pop up whenever Rue and Katniss and I were doing something that made our districts look united in the arena, from joking about 'outer district entertainment' to singing Rue to death. And beyond that, even, mockingjays are rebellious in themselves. I researched them a little after I got back and got the whole back story with the jabber jays and mockingbirds, and knowing that they're something the Capitol never wanted to exist in the first place makes the meaning behind the bird symbol a lot more loaded.

I hadn't really seen it before, but with Apollo passing me his pin like a secret message, it's kind of obvious. Cinna gave me that necklace for a reason deeper than I originally thought; he wanted people to _see _it. It symbolized union between Districts One and Twelve, and now… now I'm almost positive that it's become the symbol for something even more. If not an emblem of nationwide rebellion, I think that the mockingjay has at least turned into sign of District One's hope for something better.

I turn the pin over in my hands and try to give myself a little of that hope.

If nothing else, I suppose at least this means that not _all _the Marvel fans in District One have curled up and died.


	3. Waking Up Into a Nightmare

Snow approves my trip to the Capitol without a second thought. At least that's what Cinna makes it sound like when he calls me back. Apparently the president is beyond pleased that I'm going to be paying a visit to his dear city. He even forwarded extra money into my bank account so I can purchase any interesting designs that catch my eye without worrying about price- as if I would've had to anyway.

Once Snow's okay is given, the process of getting to the Capitol is easy enough. I throw some extra clothes into a duffel bag, stop by Cashmere's place to let her know that I'm going to be gone on a ten day trip, and then catch a ride to the train station with a stuffy-looking Capitol chauffeur. The whole process takes maybe an hour and a half, and, before I know it, I'm riding the tribute train out of District One.

The ride itself is eerie in a way I hadn't expected; the train feels empty, and haunted and much too quiet. A few attendants pop up every once in a while because god forbid it look like Snow is being inhospitable, but they're silent as ghosts, never saying a word and constantly disappearing to go do something or another.

The crappy memories that the trip brings back are even worse. Riding up to the Capitol in the same train, staying in the same room, and getting thrown into undoubtedly shitty circumstances by the same asshole president are all too much to deal with, and I quickly find myself in an inordinately shitty mood.

I spend the majority of the ride laying in bed and doodling fashion designs. As exciting as I'm sure it would be to watch stupid Capitol movies or get pissed off over newscasts discussing Katniss and her dear Atlas Baxwoll, I'm already borderline moping and have no interest in making things worse. Therefore, my time is well spent seeing how puffy I can make a dress before I can no longer imagine a Capitol woman willingly wearing it.

Before I know it, it's almost nightfall. I full well realize that I should at least try to sleep, but I can't help but cringe away from the idea. I hate the dark, and I hate tossing and turning while I try to ignoring imaginary ghosts, but, most of all, I hate it when I actually do manage to fall asleep and get taken back to the arena with Rue, Peeta, and Katniss. Nothing bad ever happens, but that's the problem. I dream about laughing with Rue or listening to Peeta and his stupid niceness or, worst of all, cuddling with Katniss in that cave, or seeing her smile at me, or hearing her say that she needs me, and then… then I wake up and it's gone.

It's so much easier to wake up _from_ a nightmare than to wake up _into_ one.

Thankfully enough, I don't have to deal with any too-good dreams; I can't sleep at all. Instead, I lay in my too-big, too nice bed and pretend that I can't hear Glimmer's icicle voice calling me a creep, or Gloss and Cashmere murmuring strategy behind my closed door. And beyond the ghosts that haunt the train, Atlas Baxwoll's face is fresh and bright behind my eyelids; purple eyes that aren't natural and dark curls and flawless features all haunt me just as much as Cato's sword, and Glimmer's eyes, and Peeta's smile. _  
_

It feels like the night has stretched on for years by the time the sun is high enough for it to be rightfully considered morning. Blearily, I rub at my eyes and drag my butt out of bed. An outfit fit for a Capitolite is procured from my closet, and then I slowly dress, my eyes continually straying to the mountains that stand tall and obvious outside the windows. We're close. Close enough that I feel physically ill.

I'd been hoping I wouldn't have to return to the Capitol until the Victory Tour, and now, two weeks after I left, I'm willingly rushing back to my least favorite place on earth. The thought makes me too sick to eat, and, rather than try to force anything down, I sit in my room and stare at the passing mountains.

If I remember right, District Twelve is surrounded by mountains too, so I try to convince myself that I'm headed there instead. I pretend that I'm going to meet Prim and have a chance to threaten Gale away from Katniss, who, in this rampant figment of my imagination, is deeply and passionately in love with me.

It's an unbearably nice thought, but it rapidly loses its believability when the train passes through a short tunnel and emerges in a totally different world; a world filled with tall buildings and colorful cars and dementedly altered people that _definitely _don't belong in District Twelve.

As the train pulls into the station, an enormous crowd of Capitolites starts cheering and waving. I can even pick out a few cameramen, all clambering to get a shot of my irresistibly charming visage. Apparently they knew I was coming.

I pause at the door and take the time to arrange my features into a signature Marvel grin. When I finally think I'm ready, I brace myself, toss open the door, and strut out onto the platform, waving and smiling and being my charming, lovable self. Families wave, boisterous greetings are shouted, and what feels like a million preteen girls start pressing up against a line of Peacekeepers, screaming my name and fighting for my attention.

I almost reel from surprise; for some reason I'd forgotten that I was still well-loved here, that the people are too stupid to hate me. Honestly, I'm rather stunned. There are twelve-year-old girls begging me to marry them.

It's really quite flattering.

A Peacekeeper grabs my arm and starts pulling me away before ego can inflate too much. With a surprising amount of politeness, the guy directs me to a limousine with dark-tinted windows. I thank him, wave a quick farewell to my loving fans, and then slip into the vehicle without a second thought. Even though I have no idea where I'm going, I can't find a reason to be too concerned. I just assume that I'll be taken back to the Training Center or some fancy hotel.

It isn't until we drive past the City Circle and up to Snow's mansion that I begin to get just a tiny bit nervous. That nervousness turns into flat out panic when the gate creaks open and the driver starts up the long gravel drive, right until the fancy limo reaches the president's front door.

"What are we doing here?" I demand.

The driver looks back at me and grins. He seems genuinely friendly, but I'm also assuming that the poor fool is terribly misguided. That tends to be a common problem among Capitol folks. "The President was so thrilled with your unexpected desire to visit that he had special guest quarters prepared for you in his very own mansion. He almost never offers a victor such a privilege. He must regard you particularly highly."

I blink. "Snow wants me to stay _here?"_

The blissfully ignorant Peacekeeper must mistake my absolute revulsion as... I don't know. Maybe dismay that Snow would lower himself to letting me stay with him or something, because I do a shitty job of hiding my horrified shock.

"That's what he said. Now, if you would just head in, I'm told that his butler will meet you at the door."

"Oh," I say, laughing uneasily. "I can't possibly impose upon the president like this. Really, it's too much... way, way, _way _too much."

"He insists," says the Peacekeeper, a tidge more forcefully. I swallow. Sleeping in the same building as Snow is terrifying enough, and here there will be no witnesses… no one to hear me scream. Hell, the guy probably has dungeons and a torture chamber and… and other unspeakable horrors too terrible for even my twisted mind to imagine.

Unfortunately, it's painfully obvious that I have absolutely no choice in the matter. With a forced smile, I nod.

"Right, of course. This is just... such an honor. I hardly feel worthy."

Appeased, the Peacekeeper begins chatting about the history of the building, and I rush to vacate the vehicle, slinging my almost non-existent luggage over my shoulder. The Peacekeeper honks and waves as I make my way up an elaborate set of stairs, and I flip him the bird when he turns to drive away. Bastard. Lulls me into a false sense of security with his stupid smiles and chatty personality and then gleefully drops me off at the gates of hell.

Still grimacing slightly, I raise a hand to lift the old-fashioned knocker, but the doors swing open before I get the chance. A butler immediately pops up in front of me- like he was waiting for my arrival _right _in front of the doors- and smiles creepily. He's either been involved in some kind of sketchy surgery or has contacts in, because his eyes are flat black. The effect makes him look something like an exotic reptile.

"Snow has been eagerly awaiting your arrival," he says.

"I bet."

He totally misses my sarcasm.

"Oh, it is wonderful. In fact, he asked that I escort you to breakfast right away! He would very much like the pleasure of dining with you. Come with me."

Breakfast? I swallow. I'm not ready for this. I'd wanted to confront Snow, but I was expecting time to think up a game plan first. Well, and I was kind of hoping not to have to stay in his freaking _mansion _after I, more likely than not, pissed him off. This... this is ridiculous.

"But my bag…"

"I will take care of that." He grabs it out of my hand as soon as he says the words, then, almost shaking with typical Capitolite-excitement, steps aside so that I am able to enter Snow's mansion for the first time. Swallowing, I take a small step through the threshold and into the snake's den.

My first thought is that Mister President needs an interior decorator. His foyer is so garishly overdone that it makes even me, Mister Bright and Flashy himself, cringe at the gaudiness of it. The floors are shining marble, numerous ridiculous paintings and sculptures are packed into what isn't that big of a space, and there's a fur pelt spread out across the floor that shines the _exact_ pale gold of the Cato mutt's fur. I'm assuming paranoia is the only reason I would make such an evidently impossible connection, but that doesn't stop me from giving the thing a wide berth.

"So…" I say, suddenly eager to be anywhere else, even if it means dining with Snow. It's the stupid rug. It makes me uncomfortable. Snow wouldn't have… would have he? "Breakfast?"

"Right this way, Victor Metzger."

He starts off down one of three hallways that branch off from the entrance, and, sidestepping what I'm becoming increasingly sure is a Cato-mutt rug, I follow after him. The marble floors extend throughout the entire building, as does the terrible artwork. Really, that's about all there is to the mansion; fancy floors and lots of pictures. I mean, there's a shitload of doors and hallways that make the place into a freaky labyrinth, but it's severely lacking in any kind of personal touch. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I was touring a museum rather than walking through the home of a living, breathing person.

After what feels like an inordinate amount of time, the butler comes to a stop in front of a pair of heavy mahogany doors. Two stern-looking Peacekeepers stand on either side, still and unmoving as gargoyles. The butler gives the two men a signal, and they reach out and open the doors with mechanical efficiency. The tail end of an enormous table comes into view, and I realize that this must be the dining room… the place where a person would generally eat breakfast. Meaning that Snow is in there.

I'm not sure if it's fear or hatred that makes my heart suddenly start thudding against my ribcage.

"You first, Victor Metzger," the butler says lightly.

With as much confidence as I can muster, I straighten my posture and start my slow walk into the room. My body instinctively knows that I'm entering dangerous territory; all of my arena-heightened senses go on overdrive, my hand finds the hilt of my knife, and instead of walking like a normal person, I can't help but slip into a predatory gait. I consciously make an effort to stop spazzing out, but I still probably look like a freak. I can't help it. As far as scariness goes, Thresh and Cato have nothing on a short eighty-year-old man with a paunch.

The butler, who I hadn't noticed follow after me, bows deeply and says, "I present to you, Victor Marvel Metzger."

Snow smiles broadly, the expression on his face not unlike that of a kid who just conned his little brother into playing a game with him... a game that the little brother has no chance of winning.

Because that's all any of this is to Snow. One big, exciting game.

"It has been too long, Marvel," he says lightly. "I truly have missed your refreshing presence. How have you been doing?"

"Quite well," I lie with a light smile. "Much better now that I'm back in the Capitol."

"Of course, of course," Snow says. He notices that his butler is still hanging out and genially waves towards the door. "That is quite enough now, Leporis. I will call for you if I need something."

The guy bows again and heads out, leaving me alone with Snow.

"Well…" I say, smiling stiffly as I rock back on my heels. "Do you want to get right to discussing important issues, or would you rather keep up the friendly chitchat a while longer?"

Snow's smile turns almost genuine. I'm beginning to get the impression that he finds me legitimately amusing, and, to be honest, it kind of creeps me out.

"You only just got here Marvel, and after such a long journey. Why don't you sit and eat? We can discuss whatever you wish over the meal."

"I'm really not that tired," I lie. His snakelike eyes fix right on me, and I add, this time truthfully, "Or hungry."

Tsking, Snow says, "Oh, come now." He takes a bite of some kind of sausage, dabs his chin with a silk napkin, and says, "It is good food, and you know better than to think I would poison you." His smile turns snakelike. "You're much too valuable."

I sit. I'm still anything but hungry, but to keep refusing his offer would make the effect he has on me too obvious. I wouldn't be surprised if Snow already realizes that I can't stand to be in the same room as him, but that doesn't mean I want to broadcast that particular weakness. He might start forcing me to spend time with him as punishment for my actions in the arena.

Wordlessly, I begin spooning eggs onto a plate.

"There," says Snow. "Now we're both quite comfortable, and we can begin our conversation. I find that good food makes discussing unpleasant topics much easier."

Nonchalantly, I force a smile and say, "Unpleasant topics? Does that mean you've decided to forgo any additional pleasantries?"

"We are quite past the point of useless banter. Don't you agree?"

"I do, actually," I say. "May I begin?"

"Please do. I'm quite excited to hear what you have to say," says Snow, once again dabbing at his lips in a gesture that is unfathomably grating. I tear my eyes away and stare at my hands.

"Alright then…" I take a shaking breath, fighting to keep calm. "Maybe I should start out by asking why, exactly, you've decided that Katniss would make a suitable _whore_."

There's a long silence, and when I glance up, Snow is looking at me like I'm the funniest thing on earth.

"Why?" Snow finally asks. He chuckles. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand why Miss Everdeen is so adept at her new… responsibility. Is she not desirable? I cannot imagine you are surprised that she's managed to attract one of the most prominent men in the Capitol. In fact, more than one of them. There has come to be quite a list…"

"I'm not surprised they want her," I interrupt quickly, really not wanting to hear anymore. "That's not what I was asking. I want to know why you found it necessary to sell her in the first place. She isn't… she's not like Cashmere or Gloss. People weren't clambering over her body… not that I knew of anyway. She's nothing more than a skinny girl from District Twelve!"

Snow laughs.

"Dear, dear, Marvel," he says. "We both know better than that; however, I'll humor you. Katniss was sold not because I was especially interested in the profits she would give me, but rather because of the impact it would have on the nation as a whole. Think... Panem had two tributes foolish enough to act rebellious in the arena, and now it has two victors who are acting anything but now that they are out. I'm afraid that it's quite discouraging to the rebels."

I open my mouth, first to express relief that Katniss isn't being sold as part of one of Snow's twisted revenge schemes, but then what he says really sinks in, and instead I blurt, "So if the rebellion dies out, you'll stop doing… _this, _to Katniss?"

Snow shrugs.

"I hardly know. I suppose that it depends on whether or not she continues to be found desirable."

My heart plummets. I'm not an idiot. He's talking about Katniss, and there's no doubt in my mind that people are going to be finding her desirable for a long, long time. They'd have to be legally blind not to.

"Okay," I say, struggling to keep calm. "So you're saying that you'll keep trying to… to sell her until no one wants her?"

"That was what was implied."

"What if…" I shake my head. "What if she gets married? If Gale would propose-"

"No."

"If I would propose?" I try. Snow snorts and looks at me like I'm an idiot, and, quickly, I press, "What if I were to buy her? I mean, forever?"

Snow shakes his head. "You haven't the money. The amount necessary would be twice a victor's winnings, and I would not allow you to do something so foolish anyway. It would destroy everything I have done to quell the rebellion."

"I…" I open my mouth, a million more ideas buzzing in my head, but none of them even approach somewhat intelligent. Everything I can think of is a bunch of desperate trash. I stare at Snow imploringly and widen my eyes, hoping that he has a conscience somewhere, and ask, "Is there anything I can do at all?"

Snow doesn't even hesitate.

"No."

"I-"

I don't know what to say, and there's a terrible pressure in the back of my throat that makes me wonder whether or not I'm going to cry, so instead of finishing my sentence, I shovel more eggs into my mouth than I can chew. I take my time forcing the food down, all while Snow takes dainty little bites of his sausage, smiling like we're a couple old ladies meeting for afternoon tea.

When I finally get all the eggs choked down, I take a slurp of orange juice, and then, now that I'm calmed down enough, cautiously venture, "What if I volunteer to take her place?"

Snow studies me for a long moment, and I almost let myself hope that he's going to agree. Then he shakes his head and begins speaking.

"No. Miss Everdeen is fiery and passionate. She fits the role perfectly. You, on the other hand, while well-liked, do not make a believable prostitute. If the rebels come to realize that I am forcing Katniss into prostitution against her will, they will only become more discouraged. On the other hand, the same revelation about my dealings with you would make it obvious that I'm controlling you in other matters as well. It would destroy the believability of everything you have done to quash the rebellion, and, effectively, would turn you into a hero."

"But people from District One _are_ whores!" I protest, any semblance of calm leaving my voice as I become increasingly desperate. "I mean… people would believe it. If you'd just leave Katniss alone, or… or let her have Gale, or anyone else-"

"I have plans for you, Marvel," says Snow coolly, his voice clearly implying that my show of emotion is unwanted, "and they would be ruined if I were to sell you. You will have a bigger role in time. Until then, I'd appreciate you not try my patience."

Stomach clenching painfully, I stuff more eggs into my mouth, this time so I don't say anything I might regret. Taking advantage of my silence, Snow smiles slightly and offers, "If you would like, I could offer you the Girl on Fire for a single night. Mister Baxwoll had her reserved for four days, but I do have other victors with which to entertain him for one of those evenings."

I swallow my eggs too quickly, then proceed to spend an embarrassing amount of time choking on them. Snow watches condescendingly, and I can't help but fidget under his gaze as I consider his offer.

A single night. I could purchase Katniss Everdeen for a single night. I understand that it would cost a lot of money, but… I'm still tempted. Painfully, disgustingly tempted. I want her company, not in the perverted way, but… just to talk to her, even if she does hate me. And if would save her from a night of sleeping with someone else. Unless…

I cough one more time, then clear my throat and hoarsely ask, "You wouldn't expect me to… to actually _do _anything with her, would you?"

"What you do or do not do is of no consequence to me," Snow says, waving a hand dismissively. "It is your money, and, if you wish to take the 'moral' route, I will do nothing to punish you. One night off will hardly keep Miss Everdeen from breaking, and I'm sure, if word were to get out of a one night stand between the two of you, her reputation would take just as big a hit as had she spent an evening with Mister Baxwoll."

I exhale. "Okay," I say. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. "Then I'll buy Katniss for a night, and… and I suppose do nothing at all after that."

He clasps his hands together. "Good, good. You're finally speaking sense. Now, if you do not mind, I will have Leporis come and take you to your rooms. I have business to attend to."

Before I can even reply, he rings a bell, and his creepy-faced butler appears within seconds.

I don't quite have the courage to give Snow the same single-fingered gesture I gave to my chauffeur, but I'm unbelievably tempted when I turn to see him smiling at me as I exit the dining room.

…

The room that Snow has set aside for me is deep enough in his mansion to make me nervous. I've been in enormous buildings before, but the president's mansion… it's a totally different kind of big. Doors and staircases pop up around every corner, and corridors continually branch off into other hallways. I'd gotten the idea it was a labyrinth from my trip to the dining room, but that little part of the mansion I went through to arrive there is nothing compared to the rest of it.

I doubt I would've been able to remember which way I came from anyway, but my head is so filled with thoughts of Katniss that the idea of so much as attempting to memorize the path slips my mind until the butler has me too deep within the mansion to bother. At that point, I make a half-assed effort to place my surroundings, but it's useless. Before a full minute is up, I chuck the idea of trying to orientate myself and instead settle for listening to the butler drone on and on about the architecture of the building.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of listening to mindless chatter about fancy pillars and arches, the butler stops in front of a seemingly random mahogany door.

I stare at it, attempting to find something distinctive that could lead me back to my room if I decide to wander, but there's nothing. It looks like every single one of the other doors in the mansion. Then again, I suppose that's part of the reason Snow gave me a room that's so far off and so randomly situated; he wants to scare me out of snooping around. Well, and I'm assuming he's also rather keen on the fact that I'll have to contact one of his men before I want to go anywhere.

It'll make keeping track of me incredibly easy.

"This is your room," Leporis says simply. "If you need to leave, I suggest you call for a servant. It would be an unpleasant waste of energy to have to locate you if you happen to get lost."

I thank him briefly, then step into the room.

It's huge, with an enormous bed and an elaborately decorated sitting area, complete with two leather couches and an ornate dining table. There are two other doors besides the one I entered through, and when I wander over to investigate, I find a bathroom with a tub I could probably swim laps in, and, behind the other door, an enormous, fully stocked closet.

Once my curiosity is spent, I awkwardly take a seat on the edge of the huge, down-quilted bed and grab the remote for the TV. Without really even thinking about it, I start flipping through all the mindless Capitol channels, searching for something to distract myself from just how useless of a situation Katniss is in.

I still can't believe that that conversation went that badly. I should have known better, but I hadn't expected Snow to be _completely _irrational. Honestly, now I I'm not so sure the asshole would stop for any reason short of the rebellion sparking up and demolishing the Capitol, and as great a possibility as _that_ is, I think the odds of Snow turning over a new leaf, apologizing to Katniss and me for all the trouble he's caused, and sending us chocolates and lilies to make up for his behavior is a million times more likely.

I shake my head and try to focus on the screen, but it's useless. Between how worried I am and how tired I am, all I can hear is a bunch of babbling in the background. Before long, I give up completely and turn the stupid thing off. Then I sprawl back across the bed and stare up at the ceiling, praying to whatever deities are willing to listen that the rebels kick it into gear ASAP.

I'm not sure how long it is before my sleepless night catches up with me, but I must slip off to sleep sometime because, when I open my eyes again, it's dark.

The first thing I do is scramble to my feet in confusion, not entirely sure where I'm at. I sleep with all my lights on, plus there's a window in my room. Waking up to complete darkness makes me panic, and then, just as I calm down enough to remember I'm in Snow's mansion, that panic skyrockets into flat out terror.

I fell asleep in Snow's mansion. I'm in Snow's mansion, and I fell asleep.

With shaking hands, I move around, testing all of my limbs to make sure that they're working properly and no unexpected surgeries were performed while I was out. Then I reach towards my belt and wrap my fingers around the hilt of my knife. It's still there.

I let out a low breath and look back towards the vague outline of the bed. I should get back to sleep. I really should. I'll need it, and none of the president's cronies have done anything cruel or unusual to me. Still… I can't help but imagine Snow sneaking into my room late at night and doing… _something… _like sinking his teeth into my jugular and sucking my blood. That's a legit theory, actually. I can't imagine why else his breath always smells like blood. He probably does it to all the guests he invites here… maybe he even drinks so little that they don't even notice.

Maybe he's already visited me this evening.

I swallow and stare at the door. Great. So now I'm making myself paranoid. That _totally _makes me more comfortable with the idea of falling back to sleep.

I rake a hand through my hair and force myself to lay back down. Snow isn't a vampire. That thought is ridiculous… what isn't ridiculous is that I'm in a room with no windows, in the middle of Snow's huge mansion, and… is the door locked? What if he's locked me in?

The thought is horrifying. I hate enclosed spaces. I've never been a fan of them, have always liked room to move, but that little quirk of mine turned into a flat-out phobia after the Games. I'm terrified of the idea of being stuck somewhere with no way out. Especially if that somewhere is President Snow's freaking slaughterhouse.

Suddenly, the room becomes way too suffocating and much, much too dark. Without even thinking about it, I swing my legs back over the edge of the bed and get to my feet. Stumbling through the dark, I reach out and close my hand over the doorknob, my heart plummeting as my paranoid head tells me that it's going to be locked.

It isn't. It turns easily in my hand. Reassured, I tell myself that I should go back to bed now, should try to get at least a little very necessary sleep, but when I look back into my room, at all of the darkness and shadows and claustrophobic tightness, I immediately know that I have a better chance of beating Gloss in an arm wrestle. No way am I staying in _there _all night.

Without really thinking about the possibility of getting lost, I open the door and step out into the marble-tiled hallway. There are windows here, and I let out a low breath when I see the moonlight streaming into the corridor. If nothing else, at least I have a window to jump out of if Snow decides to come at me vampire-style.

Without consciously deciding to, I begin walking down the corridor, trailing my fingers along the cool glass windows. I'm not sure where I'm going. Just away from my room, away from that stupid windowless dungeon. Once I'm at the end of the hall, I run straight into another door and open it without a second thought. I'm treated to the sight of another long hallway. This one is darker, with flickering candles on the walls and doors lining every few feet of space.

I swallow and, perhaps stupidly, venture forward. There aren't any windows here, and it's definitely a place I won't be able to escape, but it's also late and my brain isn't working too hot. I keep going, now out of curiosity more than any kind of rational, intelligent decision-making.

As I move further into the hallway, I peer at the doors around me, frowning at how many there are. Maybe _this_ is where Snow keeps his prisoners. I'm actually half tempted to test a doorknob and see if there are any ex-Capitol officials hanging out in chains and prison-garb, but then decide that I'm being ridiculous. While not morally beneath him, keeping enemies cooped up isn't Snow's style. He prefers to blackmail them into doing his bidding until they're no longer useful. Then he kills them.

With that happy thought, I continue down the hallway, starting to regret my decision to explore as I get further away from the other door and deeper into the crippling darkness. It really is creepy, especially with the flickering candles and echoing floors and whatnot.

Then, just as I'm about to head back, I turn a sharp corner and find myself feet in front of an elaborate doorway. I can't really see what's beyond it, but I do notice light streaming in the middle of the room and reflecting beautifully off the marble floors.

I continue forward, figuring that a little more reckless exploring won't hurt.

I'm not even entirely through the doorway before I realize how painfully wrong I am.

I've stepped into an art room. Paintings line the walls, not like in other parts of his home, but in an elaborate manner, clearly meant to show each one off individually. The sculptures aren't just randomly adorning every surface, but are carefully displayed, some of them even roped off to keep them safe. Other things, cased swords and knives and elaborate suits of armor, a net and trident, an axe, rows of spears, are all interwoven into the empty spaces between the pictures and sculptures.

With a terrible, morbid fascination, I step forward and look more closely at this terrible hell I stepped into. The portraits are mostly recognizable… Finnick Odair standing over his final kill… Johanna Mason with her axe wedged into a young boy's head, blood and gore splattering her face, and… and Cato… his face and body torn apart by the wolf mutts. Katniss hadn't been able to put him out of his misery like she had Thresh, and it shows in the absolute pain on the portrait Cato's face, the look of unbearable agony that's scrawled across his features as the mutts bite into his arms and legs and tear chunks of flesh from his chest.

I jump when I hear footsteps echoing across the floor, but they're far enough away that I'm able to push my instincts back enough that, when I turn around, it's with some semblance of composure.

I'm not sure who I expect to see- Snow or one of his men, probably- but when my eyes rest on a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, my eyes widen slightly in surprise. As soon as she sees that I've noticed her, she continues forward, now silent as a ghost.

It's disconcerting to know that she could have easily snuck up on me if she'd wanted.

"That one is particularly well done, isn't it?" the girl asks, as if it's perfectly normal to be wandering about the president's mansion at this ungodly hour. I stare at her for a second, taking in her warm brown eyes and the moonlight-colored curls that dance down her back. She's prettier than average- not at Cashmere or Glimmer's level, but still beautiful- but that isn't why I gape.

She looks _innocent_, angelic almost, and I can't quite manage to reconcile her appearance with the words that just came out of her mouth.

"Well done?" I ask. "You aren't… you're not talking about the painting, are you?"

The girl laughs beautifully. "Of course I am." She smiles sadly and takes a step closer to me. Her head doesn't even come up to my chest. "My grandfather selects a single image from each Games that he wishes to have immortalized. Usually, it's the victor's final kill, but obviously that wasn't the case this year. Instead, he chose to portray the death of his final hope. He's frustrated, so he took it out on Cato; he says that if the boy would have killed you when he had the chance, Panem wouldn't be in its current situation."

It takes everything I have not to completely lose my head. Internally, I'm thinking, '_Grandfather?! Snow has a freaking _granddaughter_?! That means he has kids… and a wife… A wife he had to have _had_ those kids with…_

Obviously I don't say any of that. Rather, I take a deep breath and calmly reply, "That's… interesting."

"It's also wrong," the girl says. "My grandfather knows very well that the rebellion would have happened anyway." She frowns, her brow creasing as she seems to realize something. After a moment, she turns away from the painting to face me completely. "I'm Cornelia Snow, by the way. I forget that you wouldn't know that."

"Marvel Metzger." I hold out a hand, and she shakes it lightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, no it's not," she says. Her lips curve up into a smile that doesn't contain an ounce of insincerity, almost like she's genuinely amused by my lie. "You dislike my grandfather exceedingly, and so far all I've done is make you uncomfortable."

"Well," I say. I hesitate, really not wanting to piss Snow off by offending a granddaughter I hadn't been aware he had. "…I wouldn't say I'm uncomfortable. I'm just surprised. I didn't know Snow had any family."

"He doesn't like people to know," Cornelia says. "There's always the chance that we could be used against him."

"And could you be? I can't imagine him caring enough for that to work."

"Ha. No, he wouldn't care," she says, not sounding like it bothers her a bit. "But it would be messy business, nonetheless."

"Shit. Well there goes that idea," I mutter. "And here I was planning on kidnapping you to make all my problems go away."

Neither of us say anything after that, and after a while I start searching for a topic, reaching for something to say, until I realize that I don't have to say anything at all. I'm not that far from my room, and once I get back into the corridor with the windows, I'll find my way easily enough. There's no reason I can't just leave

"Well," I say finally, "It's been nice talking to you, but I'm pretty tuckered out, so…"

"Of course," says Cornelia. She smiles. "Goodnight, Marvel." I move to leave, then screech to a halt at what comes out of her mouth next. "You're charming; I really hope you survive everything that's bound to happen to you."

Slowly, I turn around and stare at Cornelia, who's smiling with perfect innocence, her warm eyes even peeking up at me through thick lashes. Like she's not perfectly aware of what she just said.

"Everything that's bound to happen to me?" I ask cautiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm _really_ not allowed to say any more. Just…" She frowns for a second, making a big show of thinking over how she should phrase her next sentence. Finally, she must settle on something because she continues speaking. "You should realize that even my grandfather knows there's going to be a war. The Capitol will win, so I don't see what he's so concerned about, but his plans have now… crossed a line." She flashes perfect white teeth. "He's willing to do desperate things, and now he's even arranging a terrible last resort that will no doubt blow up in his face. He knows it, too. The only problem is that there's no longer much of a choice."

I stare. "Wait a second. There _will _be a war? Inevitably? But… _how_?"

"You can't see everything that's going on in Panem from District One." Cornelia shrugs. "There've been strikes in Eight and Eleven… and so much talk in Twelve that my grandfather had to install a new Peacekeeping system. Actually, there's been talk in every district. Except for Two."

"Wait. District One, too?"

She only laughs. "Silly, silly boy," she says. Then takes a step closer to me and leans up on her toes to kiss my cheek. "Maybe my grandfather isn't such a fool. I think I'll have fun with you."

Then, with that completely indecipherable comment, she ruffles my hair in an unmistakably condescending gesture and walks away, leaving me gaping after her like a fish.

The rest of my evening is spent trying to decide whether I have officially lost my marbles or if that crazy meeting actually happened.

...

**A/N- Okay, now that I have time to do a proper author's note, I am _so _sorry that I took over a month to update. Currently I'm trying to juggle homework from two AP classes, drama, band, jazz band, chorus, and basketball all at once, and it's all kind of sucking away my time to write. I'd planned to get a chapter up over Thanksgiving weekend, but between basketball practices every day except Thanksgiving itself and a lot of traveling in between, I hadn't managed to find the time.**

**Thankfully, I have gotten better at juggling my schedule and think that I should be able to get back to weekly updates now that bball practices are getting shorter and I'm a bit more used to the crazy. If nothing else, Christmas break is coming up for me in two weeks, and I'll do my best to get at least two (hopefully three) chapters up all within that period, so I'm definitely not going out a month without an update again.  
**

**Finally, I'm going to get back to doing review replies this chapter. I know I promised them last chapter, but I got a wee bit blindsided and never got the chance. Now that I'm managing time better, I won't have a problem getting those by the end of next chapter.**

**Alright, I'm done blabbering now. To summarize if you didn't want to read all that, as of now, I'll be able to get back to weekly updates.**

**Thank you guys all so much for sticking with this story and finding the time to review. I really, really appreciate how patient you are and apologize for not getting back to PMs or answering any reviews asking where I've been. I hope you'll forgive me enough to keep commenting and telling me what you think, especially after this chapter. It's kind of long and a lot of things happened, so I'd love to hear your take on everything.**

**That's everything... finally. Thanks again for be so patient with me.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	4. A New Pet Snake

I know it's an extremely effeminate thing to notice, but the shower in my room is absolutely _amazing_. The ones in the Training Center were no joke, and I even got a nice one installed back at my place in Victor's Village, but the one in Snow's mansion most definitely takes the cake. There are little jets everywhere, and at _least _three dozen buttons to jack around with. Half because I don't feel like dragging my butt out of my room to face reality, and half because the shower really is beast, I waste a lot more time than I should testing out every single one before I finally reconcile myself to the fact that I'm going to have leave eventually.

Sighing, I turn the shower off and hop out onto the cold floor. I glance around in search of of one of the fancy dryer buttons like there were in the Training Center, but a sharp knock distracts me before I can find one. I figure that it's Leporis or another one of Snow's servants with orders to hurry me up, so I absently wrap a towel around my waist and rush out to the door, soaking wet and freezing cold, planning to tell whoever it is not to get their panties in a bunch.

The door opens just as I'm about to reach out and open it myself, and I stumble backwards when I see Cornelia Snow standing on the other side, her pale cheeks dusted with glitter and her chocolate-colored eyes outlined in sparkling green. Shimmering pink lips curve up into a smile when she sees me, and those big brown eyes look me up and down in a way that reminds me of the mutts back in the arena; it's like she sees me as something to eat.

"Well…" I mutter, running a hand through my hair and trying extremely hard not to blush. Even though I'd been pretty damn sure I didn't _have _a sense of modesty, apparently standing half-naked in front of Snow's granddaughter is enough to make me find one. "I don't suppose that now that you've seen my awesome studliness, you could go tell your grandfather about how great of a prostitute I'd be and have him switch me out for Katniss, could you?"

Cornelia puts a hand on my chest and smiles brightly. "Move the towel, and I'll see if I can make a convincing case-"

"Not gonna happen," I say quickly, taking a good-sized step backwards. I make sure to hold onto my towel a little more tightly. This girl seems beyond twisted, and I wouldn't put it past her to make a grab for it. "What are you here for anyway? Besides the chance to ogle District One's finest?"

"So modest," says Cornelia. She laughs angelically. "And I'm here to escort you to breakfast, of course. Cinna has plans to meet you at a nice little café, and I am sure he would be quite disappointed if you got lost in the mansion and couldn't come-"

"Wait. You're going to be there at breakfast… _while _I'm with Cinna."

"Of course, silly. That's what I just said."

I narrow my eyes, and suddenly something that the little witch said last night makes a lot more sense. _"Maybe my grandfather isn't such a fool. I think I'll have fun with you." _

"Snow's bribing you to spy on me," I say bluntly.

"Well, obviously he isn't going to let you run around by yourself," says Cornelia. "You tend to get into way too much trouble, and as long as no one knows I'm his granddaughter, well… wouldn't it be convenient that someone he trusts so completely is around to keep an eye on you _all the time_?"

"All the time?" I ask. "What do you mean by 'all the time'?"

"Well…" Cornelia reaches out again and makes a grab for one of my arms, but I yank it back before she can get her greasy little paws on it. "Any time you go out in public should cover it, I think."

I shake my head, unable and unwilling to believe this. I hadn't exactly planned on going up to Cinna and having a rebel powwow or anything, but I won't be able to so much as breathe during my whole trip if this creepy little… alien thing is going to be stalking me the whole time. And what are people going to say? Seriously, generally if a guy has a girl following him around, it means they're in some kind of relationship-

I jerk my head up and lock eyes with the little bint.

"No way in hell."

Cornelia peers up at me through thick lashes and smiles sweetly.

"But the Capitol will love it. My mother is a famous actress, see, and if I use her maiden name, everyone will know I'm her daughter! It'll be _so _romantic; just like my mother's movies. So I'm truly afraid that I can't bear to let you refuse; I'd be much too disappointed. Oh… you can try to get out of it, I suppose, but little Primrose Everdeen… well, I don't think she'd very much like it if you did."

My hands clench into fists, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and breaking her neck or finding something sharp and gouging those sweet little eyes out. I take a large step back, this time so I can keep Career Marvel from breaking out and killing her, and spit, "Fuck you."

"Oh, no; you don't have to, although…" She peers at me so erotically that I have to struggle not to look away. "…if you really want to, I'm quite open to the idea."

I don't even comment on that as I escort myself back to the bathroom to change. If I'm going to have to deal with the little whore, I might as well do it with a bit more dignity.

…

Cinna isn't happy when we show up. There's something in his eyes that tells me he knows exactly who my little date is.

"Omigosh!" Cornelia croons excitedly. She lets go of my arm- which she'd been latched onto like a leech- and runs over to Cinna's table and stands in front of him like an awed schoolgirl. "Look, Marvel! I'm meeting Cinna!"

"People are staring," I say blandly.

"I know! It's perfect, isn't it?"

I have to resist the urge to bang my head against the wall.

"I'm Cornelia Ogilby. It's a pleasure to meet you," says Cornelia, turning those brown eyes of hers back towards Cinna. She's laying it on thick, I can tell; thick enough that she's actually managing to appear relatively innocent. She hasn't even started leering yet. "Marvel has told me _so much _about you."

"It's nice to meet you, as well," says Cinna, and I can't help but be impressed by the guy's cool. I've seen him on television before, but this being the first time I've actually met him, I'm a little disoriented by the knowledge that he's Capitol. He doesn't seem it; not at all. "I believe I'm familiar with your mother."

"Most people are," Cornelia says proudly. She slides into the booth opposite Cinna and pats the place next to her. I'm not even entirely seated before I find her feet in my lap. I try to push them away as delicately as I can, but Cornelia blissfully ignores my efforts.

Cinna looks at me questioningly, obviously asking me what in the hell she's doing here. I give the guy a light shrug.

"Poor creature couldn't stand to let me out of her sight."

Cornelia laughs and says, "Oh, you're so cute when you pretend to be arrogant."

I pretend not to hear her.

"You're supposed to be teaching me about fashion, right?" I ask Cinna. "What were you planning for today?"

"I have some designs we could look over. I'm also somewhat interested in hearing about what you're going to do to fix that fashion problem you were having." Cinna's eyes flash to Cornelia. "If I remember correctly, we discussed it over the phone the other day."

I have a feeling that Katniss is the 'fashion problem' I'm supposed to be fixing.

"Er, well... the _scarf _I was looking for wasn't available in District One, so I made sure to ask around about it when I got here yesterday. Unfortunately, it turns out that lots of people are purchasing that same scarf. I still bought it because I really do like the style, but it won't do shit… in changing any fasions, I mean. Because everyone's already wearing it anyway."

Cinna purses his lips. "And what, exactly, are you planning to do with that scarf now that you've bought it?"

"Good god, I'm not going to wear it!" I realize how that might sound and quickly correct myself. "I mean, I still love the scarf- it's a very, very nice scarf- but the style is really overdone right now. Best not to push it."

"Of course," says Cinna. He looks a little calmer now that he knows I bought Katniss for totally innocent reasons. Or at least I figure that's why he looks calmer. Cinna hasn't given me any sign that he gets the code talk, so for all I know, he could be speaking of an actual scarf. "Although I'm not surprised. You've always been very conscious about how you wear your scarves."

"I try to be," I say. "Even when my scarf-seller gives me really ugly free scarves. Just recently, the guy gave me a 'special' scarf that his son and daughter-in-law made a few years back. It's ugly as hell, but I can't get rid of it without offending him, and he's so temperamental… I don't want to piss the bloke off, or he might quit doing business with me altogether."

Cinna glances at Cornelia and back at me, and I nod subtly. I really don't know if Cornelia has any idea what we're talking about or not, because she's still smiling stupidly at Cinna.

"That's unfortunate," says Cinna.

"It is," I say. "Anyway, that's everything about my scarf problem. Unless you have something to add."

"Nothing to add at all," he says slowly, and with that he reaches into his bag and goes on, "Now, speaking of scarves, I would love it if you'd take a look at the one I've drawn up here…"

…

I spend most of the day with Cinna. By the time that we've finished looking over my designs, attended a (somewhat disturbing) Capital fashion show, and went on a mini shopping-spree, it's late enough that I only have enough time to change clothes and comb my fingers through my hair before I'm escorted out of Snow's mansion and taken to a waiting limo.

The driver drops me off in front of the Training Center, of all places, and I blink several times when I'm told to go up to District One's floor. I reluctantly listen, absently letting my feet take me into the building and up the familiar set of stairs. This building reeks of ghosts more so than the tribute train. I first met Rue here, and Katniss and Peeta... for Rue and Peeta, this was the last building they ever saw.

District One's rooms are no different than I remember. The couches have been arranged back into their normal positions after those terrible last interviews, and I'm not sure if that makes this easier or more difficult. The way it is now, I can almost imagine watching the tribute parade with Glimmer, waiting for our scores together... her absence is painfully noticeable, more so than it had been after the Games. Now it's dead quiet. There aren't any distractions, and my head is a lot clearer.

I can almost hear her icy, brittle laugh.

I exhale and smile wryly. Snow obviously knew I wouldn't be planning anything romantic (as if screwing a prostitute could possibly be made romantic in the first place) tonight. He wouldn't have made such an obvious play to kill the mood if he did.

I try sitting on the couch as I wait, but it's no use; I'm too nervous. I get to my feet and start pacing. After a while I find myself stopped in front of the window that Glimmer and I talked next to the night I caught her sneaking back to her room. I can still see the moonlight sparkling off her hair, the way that her face was about ready to crack.

God, I was an ass to her that night. I'm also pretty damn sure I'd thought myself _nice_. Asking a breaking girl if she's okay just about hit the top of the good things I'd done in my lifetime at that point.

It's thoughts like that that _almost _make me thankful I won. Thankful that I have a second chance, that I can make things right.

Then there's a knock on the door, and that thought flies out the window because Katniss is coming to me as a freaking prostitute, and if Peeta would've won- Peeta, the one guy on earth who deserved it more than anyone else- there wouldn't have been a rebellion, and Snow wouldn't have to sell Katniss, and they'd probably already be starting in on thier happily ever after.

I shake the thought off as I start walking towards the door. My steps are slow and nervous, and my heart is thudding hard against my chest.

Katniss. On the other side. I'm going to see her for the first time in weeks.

I want to smile, but I force my face to stay emotionless, force myself not to get too excited. She still hates me. We haven't made up yet. She won't be happy to see me, not at all.

It's no good. I can't calm myself down, can't make myself remember that Katniss doesn't think I'm the same Marvel who held her in the cave, who recklessly risked his life to save her own multiple times in the arena.

My hand trembles as I open the door, and I miserably fail to bite back a smile when I see Katniss staring up at me. Any degree of composure that I'd felt before evaporates at the sight of her standing there, small and stunning and just as beautiful as I'd remembered.

I reach out to touch her, then yank it back when I actually seeher face.

She's lost weight, which is _bad _because she didn't have all that much to spare in the first place. Her cheekbones are straining against the skin so tightly that I'm half worried they're going to poke through, and she's ghostly white. The bruise-like circles under her eyes can't entirely be blotted out with thick makeup, and when I look up and meet her shocked gaze, I cringe outright at pain in her silver eyes.

My last couple weeks have _sucked_, but I immediately get the feeling that they've been nothing compared to hers.

"M-Marvel," she stutters, and then she bites her lip and shakes her head. I frown when she takes an enormous step backwards. "No."

"What?" I blurt, because it almost looks like she's going to turn and run away. I was a dick to her, yeah, but the horror and loathing in her eyes… I hadn't expected _that_, and it hits me like a punch in the gut. "Katniss-"

"I can't do this."

Then she's backing up out the door. I instinctively lunge for her, but she darts out of the way and takes off, heading straight for the staircase. I'd bet anything that Haymitch is up on her floor, and I know for a fact that he, of all people, isn't about to hear me out. Not after the punch he gave me the last time I saw him.

"Katniss!" I cry, running after her. "Dammit, what are you _doing_?"

She keeps running. I take the stairs two at a time, my long strides giving me an easy advantage. It still takes me a couple flights to catch up completely, but I'm close enough to make a grab at her by the time we reach the third floor landing, my hand closing around her elbow as she slows to turn the corner. She struggles and tries to break away, but I quickly pull her closer, grabbing her around the waist and holding on tightly, refusing to let go as she kicks and pounds at me.

Then she goes limp and stops, and I let out a sigh of relief at the break, even as I tighten my hold on her even more.

"You already tricked me with the play dead thing once," I remind her, thinking back to when she woke up for the first time after getting stung by those tracker jackers. I put as much distance between my face and her head as possible, just in case she decides to headbutt me again. I don't want another bloody nose. "It isn't going to work."

Apparently she takes that as permission to start flipping out again, and I curse as she gets me hard in the stomach. My grip loosens and she tries to struggle free, but I grasp desperately at her, knowing that any chance I have of even somewhat helping her is going to go out the window if I let go now.

"Katniss," I plead. "Just let me-" She stomps on my foot, and I curse loudly. "Dammit! What is your problem?"

"Do you really have no idea what my _problem_ is?" she spits. She stops struggling, but I don't let my guard down for a moment.

"Well, okay, you have a shitload of problems," I pant. "But I don't see why you should flip out on _me _because Snow's being an ass and… and _selling _you, of all the disgusting things… God, I know I've been terrible to you, but you could at least give me the chance to _speak _before going bat shit crazy on me, and-"

"_W-what_?" Katniss sputters.

"What, what?"

"You think what Snow's doing is disgusting?"

"No," I say sarcastically, "I'm getting a kick out of it. Shit, Katniss, I may be an unfeeling ass, but I think even Cato would've seen something wrong with _this_. Or has Snow gotten you brainwashed into thinking that it _isn't _disgusting? Because, I swear-"

I don't get a chance to finish before she fights out of my hold- which I'd stupidly loosened during my rant- and throws herself at me. I freeze up as I feel her arms wrap tightly around my neck, sure that she's planning on choking me to death, but then she starts shaking and inhaling deeply- I'd swear she's breathing in my scent if that wasn't completely crazy- and fisting her hands in the back of my shirt.

After a long moment, I awkwardly raise my hands and hold her against me, unsure of what just happened. It isn't until she takes a shaky breath and whispers, "I'm sorry. I thought you… I didn't know…"

I pull away from Katniss the second that what she's saying sinks in.

I left her acting like a Capitol asshole, so she'd have every reason to think that I am one, that I'd be willing to do something like… like purchase her and use her. I should've known that she'd jump to that conclusion. Katniss doesn't trust anyone, especially not someone's who's already burned her once, but God... knowing that she thought I was going to rape her, that there didn't seem to be a doubt in her mind about it...

I fail miserably at keeping the hurt off my face.

My sister, Katniss, my entire fucking district... I get that I've fucked everything up, but it sucks, having _everyone _treat me like a piece of shit, especially when I'm trying so damned hard to be something more than that for the first time in my life.

"Marvel?" asks Katniss.

"I- it's alright," I say stiffly. "I get why you thought what you did. It doesn't matter anyway."

"But... _why_?"

I shake my head. "I just figured... you could use a night off. It doesn't mean shit, not really. Snow said, when I talked to him, that there wasn't anything I could do to actually help you, so I did what I could. But anyway, I don't have anything important to say, and if Haymitch is here or something, you'd probably be a bit more comfortable with him-"

"You were talking to Snow about me?"

I'm well aware that Snow is probably tuning into this conversation with interest, but it's not a big deal. He knows why I'm here. No harm in admitting it to Katniss.

"Yeah. I came up to the Capitol to get some help from Cinna on my 'talent' as soon as I saw you and that freak Baxwoll on a news cast. I'm staying at Snow's mansion, and we had a friendly chat about your 'obligations' yesterday morning."

Katniss looks down. I pretend not to see the tears in her eyes as she straightens her clothes and hardens her expression. "How did you know what was actually going on?"

I snort.

"You weren't willing to kiss me after we spent two weeks watching each other's backs in the arena. Somehow I doubt you'd be all over a Capitol idiot within two days."I hesitate, but then reluctantly admit, "Besides, you aren't the only one." She opens her mouth, and I quickly wave off her concern. "No, Snow has reasons for not wanting to sell me. I mean, beyond the fact that I'm not exactly Finnick Odair. Cashmere's hinted at it a few times though, and Glimmer flat out told me her best bet to get sponsors was to convince Capitol men to pay money hoping she'd make it out of the Games alive so they could, well… you know."

"This is sick," says Katniss. She takes a shaky breath. "Me, Cashmere, whoever else he's doing this to, we _won_. It should be over."

"Yeah, and Snow's a dick." I look around and remember we're still on the third floor landing, where anyone could overhear us. "Now we should either go back down to the first floor if we're going to continue this conversation, or you should go back to Haymitch."

Katniss bites her lip and looks at me for a long moment. She's fidgeting uncomfortably, and for the first time I notice her bare legs peeking out from the long coat she's wearing. I vaguely wonder what she's wearing underneath, then shake my head quickly, doing everything I can to get rid of the thought.

Now is really not the time.

"I… I'll come with you. I have questions."

"Alright then. Lead the way." I gesture her down the stairs, and she hesitates a moment too long, unwilling to turn her back to me. I try to tell myself that it's a natural reaction to the Games, but she trusted me with her life in the arena. Now, no matter what questions she wants answered or how civil she's acting, she has very obviously lost any semblance of that trust. Another slap in the face. "Fine," I mutter under my breath. "I'll go first."

I start walking, straining my ears to listen to her footsteps behind me. I can't hear her, but I don't let myself stop walking. I'm well aware that Katniss moves silent as a ghost, and looking back to check would only make me appear insecure. Which I'm not. At all.

Not insecure my ass. I actually sigh in relief when we reach the first floor and I look to see her still trailing after me. I don't bother holding the door, knowing she'd rather I go through first, and reenter the main room, making a beeline for the couch and plopping down on one of the cushions. Katniss hovers awkwardly in front of me for a moment before seating herself at the very edge of an armchair, almost like she thinks she's going to have to take off right away.

Right. Because I'm a monster, and it's clearly in my character to chase after her with a knife if she pisses me off.

"Alright," I say, my voice a hell of a lot more upbeat than I'm truthfully feeling. "You said you have questions."

"Did you really pick fashion as your talent?" Katniss asks quickly, almost like she's embarrassed about the question. I gape at her, wondering if she's serious. That was a bit less less grave than I'd been expecting.

"Er. Yeah. Why…?"

She purses her lips. "It's mine, too. I think it's ironic. That's all."

My lips curve up into a smile despite myself. That's a good thing. A very, very good thing. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility to meet up during our time in the Capitol and go over stuff, and maybe I could even invite her to District One to meet Apollo. I'm not sure how great of an idea that would be since half the population is dying to kill her, but I'm sure Snow wouldn't let anything _really _happen. Death or serious injury would be too kind. He's more of the psychological, make her life a living hell, kind of guy.

"It's ironic, but it's also a bit of a good thing. I'm meeting up with Cinna sometime tomorrow. You could come with. Hell, bring Haymitch; I want to see how he deals with Cornelia."

"Who?"

"Satan's child," I say absently. "We're apparently just concluding the friendship stage of our relationship. I'm sure we'll be a couple by the end of my visit here."

Now Katniss's brow is furrowed, her face scrunched in confusion. I really do want to explain the whole Cornelia thing to her, but I'm pretty sure that Snow would frown upon such candidness. I get the impression that he wants no one knowing about his demon daughter. Especially Katniss, who would so gleefully use that information against him should the chance ever arise.

"Apparently? Am I supposed to guess what that means?"

"Maybe it's a bit of a hint to look beyond what you see," I suggest, smart enough not to add in the 'for once' that really does deserve to be attached to the end of that sentence. No matter how much I love Katniss, there's no denying that she's judgmental as hell. She'll draw a premature, highly opinionated conclusion about something the instant she sees it, internalize said conclusion, and hold onto it as long as physically possible even if it's blatantly wrong. "Anyway, it's not important. I might talk to Cinna about inviting you to our next breakfast date though. Anything else you wanna ask me?"

She swallows and looks at her hands.

"I… that locket you gave me. I tried returning it to Cinna without opening it."

"You're shitting me," I mutter. Figures.

"He made me keep it, and… I just want to know, what was inside, the note, it wasn't…" Her cheeks are red now, and I can't believe that Katniss Everdeen is blushing. "Never mind. I just thought it was odd that you'd risk giving your district the wrong impression just to mess with me. Say I had given it back to Cinna and he read it-"

"As if Cinna would've said anything," I cut in. I look at my hands and frown to myself. This would be the time to tell her that I wasn't messing with her, that I do love her and have been acting like an ass to help her, but she looks so fragile and broken, and I'm not sure what's better for her: allowing her to continue thinking I betrayed her, or telling her that her family's life is in my hands and having her worry about that on top of everything else.

"It still might've gotten into the wrong hands," Katniss insists stubbornly. "And then what would people think?"

"That I was trying to mess with you," I say easily. "That's not what you were going to ask me, though."

"I changed my mind," says Katniss.

"You aren't allowed. I want to hear what you were going to ask about the locket," I insist.

Katniss shakes her head. "It really isn't important. It's… I was just going to confirm that you were joking again. You know, because we're apparently friends now, and they do things like that. Joke, I mean."

"Right," I say. "Because that wouldn't be the cruelest fucking joke I've ever heard of."

"Marvel?"

"I don't..." I shake my head, because I really have no idea what to say, how much I can say. How much I _should _say.

"Marvel," says Katniss again. "Forget about the necklace. It's nothing."

Great. I tell her I love her, that I'd really appreciate a tad bit of trust, and apparently that is absolutely _nothing _to her.

Either she's a better liar than I've given her credit for, or she's telling the truth, because her words hit me hard. For the millionth time tonight.

My entire district turns against me and I don't give a shit, but a scrawny sixteen-year-old girl from District Twelve makes a dismissive comment about a freaking necklace and I feel like a toddler who just got his candy yanked away.

"Alright," I say slowly. "It's…" I can't get the word 'nothing' out. It is something. _I _think it's something, and I don't want to lie to Katniss anymore. It's selfish, but here I am with a chance to make her not hate me, and I'm wasting it. Wasting it for good reason, but... is it really worth it when I won't be able to protect Katniss for all that much longer anyway?

Besides, she's going to go back to District Twelve after this, and I can almost guarantee every single one of them are going to treat her like a traitor. Getting out of the arena with the District One con artist over Peeta, and then running to the Capitol and spending her nights screwing random guys? Katniss isn't going to be able to say a word, and even if her family sticks with her, she'll have very, very few allies.

Isn't it more important for me to give her a friend? She really shouldn't be ignorant anyway, and it isn't like she's weak. Katniss will be able to handle it.

I cringe at the last thought.

_Katniss will be able to handle it._

It seems like everyone thinks it all the time. Katniss can handle being born in a shit district. She can handle her father's death, and starving to within inches of her life. Taking care of her family without any adult help is a piece of cake, and hell, throw in getting Reaped with a boy to whom she owes her life to give her a bit of a challenge. Then I come in and make things worse, and now she's getting prostituted out like she isn't worth a million times more than that, and I'm ready to put something else on her shoulders.

What if this is the time she won'tbe able to handle it?

I'm selfish enough that I have to tell her something, but there's no way I'm giving her the burden of knowing everything.

"I didn't give you that necklace to mess with you," I say slowly. "I gave it to you because what it says in there…" I swallow. It's harder to tell her I love her when I'm a hundred percent sure it's actually true. All the other times, I've either been faking it entirely, hopelessly confused or unsure of what was going on. Now, though… it'll be completely sincere and there's no way in hell she's going to believe it. "… it's true. I wasn't lying to you with the necklace, Katniss. I was lying in the interviews after the Games." I duck my head. "I love you."

Katniss shakes her head, just like I expected.

"I don't believe you."

"You shouldn't," I say. "You should never believe a word that comes out of my mouth. Never, _ever_ blindly listen to what I say. I've been taught to lie my entire life, and I'm better at it than you could ever imagine." _Hell, I've got an entire country fooled right now. _

"You're not doing a very good job at proving your point," says Katniss coolly.

"I wasn't finished," I say. "I don't want you listening to what I say." _Especially not with Snow censoring and altering every other word that comes out of my mouth. _"I want you to pay attention to what I _do_." I think about how she's going to see me with Cornelia and amend, "Not all the time, but when it really matters, when it's something big. When there's a lunatic ready to kill us and I almost die fighting him so you can escape, or when I stumble through the forest, about ready to keel over from pain and bloodloss and a bunch of other shit, to make sure you're okay."

"So what?" Katniss asks, and I know she still doesn't believe me. "You decided to lie in the interviews because you were worried your district would think badly of you for falling in love with a rat from District Twelve?"

"Fuck my district," I snap. "I really don't think it's possible that they think any worse of me than they do already. That's hardly why-"

"Then _why_? It wouldn't have hurt either of us if you kept up the stupid act, and I might've been able to fake a relationship with you and not have had to deal with… with _this_, and… and hell! It isn't even just that. You cheered when they showed Rue's death, Marvel! I hardly want your love even if you aren't lying. You've been terrible, and-"

"THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT!"

Katniss snaps her mouth shut.

"I was supposed to be terrible! Did you really think that I was _happy _about Rue's death? You had to have known I wasn't stupid enough to take on Cato single-handedly because I thought I would beat him. Never once, not _once _in those last weeks in the arena did I ever give you a reason to doubt me, and you forget all of that in an _hour!_?"

"What was I supposed to think?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I shouldn't be pissed at Katniss. Or maybe I should be, because what I'm saying is true. She should've believed me. So she has trust issues, trust issues she was dealing with for the entire two weeks we were partnered up. I know that. But I think I did enough to prove myself trustworthy.

I shake my head.

It isn't her fault that she that she hates me, that she never so much as considered the possibility that I could be putting on a show. It really isn't her fault. The Capitol tricked her. It isn't her fault.

I can't believe myself. If our situations were reversed, I wouldn't have doubted Katniss. I would have _refused _to believe it. Hell, I at least would've tried to say _something _to her.

"You were supposed to think," I say shortly, "that I have a reason for acting like I did."

"What reason could possibly justify hurting me like that?"

"It shouldn't have hurt you!" I say. "You should have trusted me, and god, I'm hoping you'll trust me right now because I _can't _tell you anything else." I take a shaky breath and spew out another, much less harmful lie. "I'm not allowed to explain any of this. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"You just told me how good of a liar you are. Why should I take your word for anything?"

Remember what I said about Katniss drawing conclusions and refusing to budge?

It's becoming quite clear that she's pegged me as a bad guy and isn't going to be seeing me as anything different anytime soon.

"Because when a vain, selfish prick is willing to risk his undoubtedly precious life for you, it's generally a sign that he holds you in pretty high esteem."

Katniss stays stubbornly silent, and I want to bang my head against the wall. I get that she's looking for a lie in everything that comes out of my mouth, and I can totally understand why she's doing it, but she's being freaking ridiculous.

"You're obviously done listening to me," I say finally, breaking a freakishly long, tense pause. "It's probably best you go running back to Haymitch now and tell him all about how mean, evil Marvel tried to fill your head with his dirty lies."

"I..." She takes a deep breath. "I need to think about this, but if- I don't know if it's a great idea, but- I would be willing, if you are still... I wouldn't mind having breakfast with you and Cinna tomorrow. If that's at all possible."

I nod slowly, unsure if that's a good sign or not.

"Of course. But... I have to warn you that I'll have company. Again, you should drag Haymitch along. It'll make the outing _a lot _more enjoyable."

She frowns, but I shake my head and wave her towards the door. "You'll see tomorrow, I'm sure. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about right now."

Katniss takes a single step towards the door, but stops at the last moment.

"I'm sorry again, that I thought you bought me to... you know. I should've known you wouldn't do that."

Then she disappears before I can say a word.

...

**A/N- **

**Three months in the making, but... here it finally is. I do apologize for the length of the weight, but some really crap things happened in real life, and when I finally did get back to trying to write, I couldn't focus on this story at all. It didn't seem like anything I could write was even vaguely close. I'm also not completely satisfied with this chapter; it came off a bit odd to me, probably because it's been written on and off over a three month span, but it's the best I could do and I hope that's good enough. Thanks to everyone for waiting for so long and sticking with this story even after so much time. I promise that I will finish it, and I really hope that my updates will be a lot more consistent from now on. **

**If anyone sees any glaring problems with this chapter, or anything that's terribly wrong with it, please let me know. Other than that, thanks so much for sticking with my story. **

**No review replies this chapter because I want to get it up (and it's been so long that most everyone probably forgot what they reviewed anyway), but I do promise them for next chapter, and I give all of you permission to verbally abuse me if I break said promise. That's everything, I think. Once agian, I do appreciate how many people have supported this story over my break. **

**~bballgirl32~**


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